


Forget Me Not (don't let go)

by LadyoftheWoods



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Choking, Deceit | Janus Sanders Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending, Hurt Deceit | Janus Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Lociet - Freeform, Passing Out, Pining, Sympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Sympathetic Logic | Logan Sanders, Sympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, coughing up blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: Janus catches Hanahaki.He's sure no one will care.Least of all the one he needs to care.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 142





	Forget Me Not (don't let go)

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's first Hanahaki fic!

Janus was fucked.

He was absolutely totally fucked.

He’d known he was in trouble, from the moment it started.

It had seemed like a cold. A simple, lingering cold, with slight chills and a solid cough. 

That’s what he played it off as, anyways. He knew otherwise. He didn’t get sick. He’d never been sick.

But he himself wasn’t extremely concerned until a week in and he had that one, hacking bout that had him coughing up the slightest bit of blood and a single deep blue petal.

He sat on his bed, staring at the red on his gloves, the petal a delicate, rich thing, one that matched a certain someone’s eyes.

Logan's eyes.

He inhaled sharply, setting off another round of deep coughs that burned at his chest, though this time nothing came up.

Good. Good, he had time, then.

Time to get his affairs in order, time to say goodbyes, though they wouldn’t know that’s what they were. Time to figure something else out.

Because there was no way in hell he was telling Logan. Ever.

He’d… hurt him. He’d hurt Logan, in so many ways, too many times, and no amount of apologies could ever make up for all the harm he’d done.

All the times he’d silenced Logan. Shut him out. Forced him into speechlessness when he knew, he knew, how much value and power words had. And he’d taken that away, repeatedly and constantly, from Logan.

Logan. Logan, with his sharp eagle eyed gaze, his quick wit, his endless knowledge about everything and anything, his mindless rambling, his incredible debate skills, his unique perspectives, his small smiles, his nervous tics, adjusting his tie, pushing up his glasses, his wonderful, too rare laughter.

He coughed, retching, barely reaching the wastebasket in time, as he threw up a clump of bloody petals, the sensation of them slimy and sickening as they slipped up his throat and he spat them out.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring into the bin, just feeling a strange sense of numbness, taking over.

He jolted at a knock on his door.

Without thinking he got up and opened it, blinking as he met Virgil's eyes.

“what are you doing?” Virgil bit out, and he blinked again.

“Pardon?”

“don’t play dumb, I can feel your anxiety from halfway across the mindscape. It’s annoying. So whatever you’re doing, stop it.” 

“I’m not… doing anything.” He answered, that numbness still blanketing him. Virgil scowled.

“You’re doing it right now. You’re panicking.” He was? He didn’t feel like he was. He opened his mouth to say as much, then another round of coughs bubbled up in his chest, leaving him a heaving, shaking mess, as he slumped against the door.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. He didn’t want to be in love, he didn’t want to be coughing up petals and blood, he didn’t want to go out like this, and he was a coward, a complete and utter coward.

“Janus, what…” Virgil trailed off, as he spat out another mouthful of those loathsome petals, tears just barely staining his cheeks. He couldn’t bear to meet Virgil's eyes, shame and loathing bubbling to the surface.

“it’s nothing." He whispered instead, hoarse and ragged.

“like hell it isn’t. You have Hanahaki, that isn’t nothing, that can kill you!” Virgil shouted.

“So what?” he muttered softly.

“Janus?”

“So what if it does? So what if it kills me? What would you care, Virgil, what would any of you care? You don’t want me, none of you want me, not even Thomas wants me, so who cares?!” He exploded, eyes aflame as he looked up at Virgil, before sighing, shoving back his hair. “who would care?”

“Please, Dee, I’m… I’m pissed at you, sure, but I don’t want you to die! None of us want that.” He let out a harsh bark of laughter, blood on his tongue.

“Sure.”

“Jan-"

“Stop.” He met Virgil's eyes once more, though his own shimmered now. “This is a secret. It is a secret, and it is mine, and you cannot say a word of it to anyone else, ever.” He intoned, making it true, making it a secret, making it his to keep and contain. 

Virgil grimaced at the wash of power that swept over him, at Janus's words, that would silence him as soon as he tried to say anything about this, an almost heavy defeat settling on his shoulders.

“Now go run home to your family, Virgil. I’m sure they’re worried where you’ve gone.” With that he shut the door, sliding down against it, burying his head in his hands.

For the first time in forever, he broke down into sobs.  
…  
He hurt.

Gods, he hurt.

His chest was tight, he could feel sharpness digging into him from the inside, thorns and vines stabbing into his flesh, squeezing around his ribs and heart so they ached.

He was coughing near constantly. Whereas a week ago only every four or five coughs would send him into a fit, now nearly every other small throat clear sent him reeling, hurling up petals and blood and fragments of vine, sometimes entire full flowers, tiny midnight blue things, Forget me Nots.

How ironic. As if he’d ever be able to forget this predicament, forget the cause, though the blame fell on no one but himself and his own stupid, idiotic, moronic choices.

He coughed into his fist, slumped at his desk, wincing as it got a spattering of red on the pure white paper staring up at him. There were plenty of crumpled papers in the wastebasket already, layered between the petals and tissues covered in crimson. 

He put pen to paper and tried again.

“Logan,  
I am deeply sorry for this turn of events. I never meant for this to happen, and it is entirely my fault. You are brilliant and incredibly bright and amazingly smart, and the crux of it all is I love you.  
And I’ve hurt you. More than I could ever understand, I know, I’ve hurt you. And I’m more sorry for it than you’ll ever know.

I wish everything were different. I wish I had been different. I should never have played you as I did. You deserve to be heard. You deserve the world, Logan, and you deserve so much more than me.

I hope in time you’ll forgive me.

Janus.”

He sighed, shoving the paper away, leaning back in his chair, wincing as he felt something scrape against him inside.

He tried to take a sip of his tea, laced with honey and chamomile and for a moment, the warmth soothed his torn and ragged throat.

Then he doubled over from the force of the blinding pain shooting through him, stabbing into his lungs, as he gasped for breath. 

Then came the all too familiar slimy sensation, as he spat, dimly alarmed by the amount of blood that came up this time, at the tightness he could still feel in his lungs. 

It was getting worse.

“Janus, kiddo? You in there?” he groaned internally. He’d been doing his best to avoid and or ignore the others, on the rare occasion he left his room these days, and it had been depressingly… easy.

No one questioned his absence, no one came looking, no one was worried, not even Remus, though perhaps that wasn’t fair. Remus was always scatter brained, his grasp on time loose and tenuous. The only other who could read his tells well enough was Virgil, and he already knew. Every time they ran into each other, or he was in the kitchen around the others, Virgil tried to get him to say something, gave him pointed looks and made leading statements, though no one seemed to notice. He was frustrated, Janus knew. And perhaps a tad worried.

The knock came again and he let out a soft breath, steeling himself, snapping himself into a clean, blood free outfit, hiding his baggy eyes and greasy hair under his hat, leaning heavily on his cane as he pulled open the door.

“Patton, what a surprise. What brings little, pure Morality to the doorstep of the serpent?” He was rather proud, how smooth his voice came out, as he pretended to examine his fingernails, though the pressure was building in his chest, short on breath. 

“You’ve seemed… off, lately. Are you… ok?” He forced himself to chuckle softly, gaze sweeping over Patton, almost convincing himself he was happy, that Patton shifted uneasily under his gaze.

“Cute. What do you really want, Patton?” he asked, raising a brow, trying to contain the hacks he could feel building in his throat, nearly choking as he swallowed it down.

“Janus. I know something, is wrong. I just… I want to help, kiddo.” He scoffed, looking away.

“Please. Don’t pretend I’m one of your kiddos. Don’t pretend to care a whit about me, Patton. I’m fine. You and your guilty conscious can go rest easy.” He closed the door before Patton could say another word, immediately breaking down into the worst fit yet, leaving him gasping and shaking and shivering on the floor, muscles too weak and tired to move an inch.

He fell into a fitful unconscious, surrounded by clumps of petals and viscous blood.

And outside the door, Patton’s eyes were wide, his hands shaking, because that had sounded terrible. Janus had looked terrible, too, and he was sure now that the emotional turmoil he was feeling had something to do with Janus, and how very not ok he was.  
…  
Three weeks.

Three weeks, and he could barely breathe, much less drink or, god forbid, eat anything.

He was curled in bed, under every blanket he owned, which still wasn’t enough to stop the shivering chills constantly assailing him, no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to get warm.

The trashcan was full. He’d given up emptying it, given up coughing into tissues, just spitting over the bed, when he could, soaking the pillows and sheets when he couldn’t. He didn’t have the energy to swap them. He didn’t have the energy for anything.

He just wanted to sleep. He just wanted to sleep, and he couldn’t even do that. He had to lay on his side, or he’d choke on his blood and the damned petals, he could feel them now, the vines, squeezing his heart, growing and twining around his lungs, blooming in his windpipe. Simply touching his chest sent pain shooting through him like an electric shock.

He could barely get the air to cough, his previous body shaking hacking had faded into weak, painful croaks that tore his insides apart and brought sticky blood gushing out of his mouth, coating his throat in a perpetual taste of copper and iron.

“JANNY!” His eyes fluttered open at the exclamation, hissing in pain as the bed jolted from a body flinging itself onto the mattress. “You would not BELIEVE the trouble I’ve been stirring up! And Roman's got no idea it’s me! A rogue monster, sinking his ships, terrorizing his ports, wrecking his docks, a giant tentacled writhing thing! Oh, it’s delightful!” He groaned, gods Remus was loud, he was so terribly loud and much, and he was so, so tired and slow and sluggish, he couldn’t keep up with him.

“JanJan?” Remus asked, seemingly noticing his state for the first time, resting a hand on his shoulder, frowning as he felt him trembling, his breath coming fast and shallow.

“M'fine. ‘s… ‘s fine.” He managed, a mere whisper of a word, regretting it as he immediately gagged, flowers clogging his throat, so weak he couldn’t get enough air, he couldn’t get them out, he was suffocating-

Then arms were around him, supporting him upright, thumping his back until they dislodged, flying out of his mouth and landing on the floor with a sickening splat as he sagged against Remus, so close to slipping away again.

“JANUS!” The shout barely registered through his hazy mind, and he shuddered.

“m tired, Ree.” He slurred, leaning into Remus's warmth, gods, he was warm, like a tiny sun. 

“Stay with me, Jan. I need you to stay awake. Please, Jan, I’m begging you to stay awake.” He nodded, though it felt like swimming through molasses, because Remus was scared, and Remus didn’t scare easy, so something must be wrong, badly wrong, and he needed to help.

“ok. Ok, good. Imma pick you up now, we have to go, we have to find the others.” He didn’t want that. He couldn’t remember why but he knew he didn’t want that.

He didn’t have the words though, because then he was being moved and it hurt, everything in him hurt, and he coughed again, feeling something sticky and warm and wet dripping down his lip.

He whimpered as he felt Remus move, jostling him slightly, though every tiny motion sent ice burning into him as he clung weakly to Remus, desperate for warmth, warmth, warmth.  
…  
He was dimly aware of voices. All talking over each other, yelling, then he coughed, a weak, rasping thing, and everything went silent.

“Janus?” Roman, and he barely managed to blink his eyes open. 

Roman inhaled sharply. Janus was so pale, almost deathly white, his eyes sunken in, their usual glowing gold and rich brown muted to a sickly yellow and muddy riverbank color. His scales were flaky and missing any luster, dull and cracked. His clothes hung off him, he was so skinny, he’d lost so much weight. 

“How long?” Roman asked softly.

“three… three… weeks.” He replied, breath rasping in and out, he could barely get enough air to breath, much less speak, and every breath burned, no matter how shallow, it burned, ripping and tearing him apart inside. Roman looked up, and he knew he was meeting Remus's eyes, before saying something softly, that had Remus clutching his hand, Patton gasping. He guessed it was something about how little time he had left.

“Please, Jan. You have to say it.” He shook his head, blurrily meeting Virgil's eyes, when had he come closer? It didn’t matter, he was standing above him now, face stricken and eyes wide.

“no" he rasped. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t! 

“then let me. Please. Let me say something. Don’t… don’t do this.” He was slipping again. His eyes drifted closed, and he was so close to nothingness, but he felt a twinge of guilt. He couldn’t go without giving them answers.

“Letter. My… desk.” He mumbled, and with the last of his awareness, he let the power silencing Virgil go.

Then there was nothing but a scorching pain, wracking tremors, aching darkness and distant, panicked voices.  
…  
He drifted.

Deep blue eyes, sparking with light, burning with intelligence and intensity.

A voice, deep and soothing, an even cadence as he relayed facts and figures and theories.

A debate stage, quick replies, witty banter, that small almost smile and that focused gleam in his eyes, an undercurrent of wild glee at the freedom of being heard, of being wanted to be heard. 

Those eyes, following him, hard as stone, shuttering off at his presence. A hand flying up to cut him off. Shoving him to the back row at a trial. Mocking him in the witness stand. Breaking him down until he wasn’t even present at the last big episode, and still, he’d dragged him away and taken his place, shut him up yet again when he was the only one that deserved to be heard.

He was as bad as Patton, who had skipped him. And it hurt, gods, it hurt that he’d done that, done it all, hurt him, hurt Logan, and he’d do anything to take it all back. The least he could do was not force Logan to care that his life now rested in his hands.

Hands. Hands, in his hair. Carding through his hair in slow, steady motions, and he leaned into the touch, the only thing that didn’t hurt was that touch.

His chest was on fire. He could feel a constant tickle in the back of his throat, and knew it was flowers, blooming against his larynx, if he opened his mouth wide, they’d be visible to the naked eye, those deep blue petals peeking out and into his mouth, and he was surprised he could get any breath past it.

The thorns pierced and clawed against his esophagus, scraping it to raw and bloody shreds. 

He couldn’t get enough air. He could feel his chest barely rising and falling, short, wheezing gasps of air all he could manage, his lungs constricted almost completely by the vines wrapping tight around them. He wondered what he must look like, internally, gods, it must be a horrendous masterpiece.

“Janus?” no. Not him, he can’t be here.

He forced his eyes open, though the world was spotty and blurred, hazy, from lack of oxygen. He could see cream colored walls, dark soft carpet, a plain, organized space that still somehow screamed Logan.

He flinched, as his eyes met Logan's, squeezing his shut, though his gaze burned into him with an almost physical weight. 

“Janus…” Logan trailed off with a sigh, and he weakly shook his head.

“s fine. S… y'don owe me anythin, Lo. S fine.” He managed, though it felt like a knife being thrust into his gut, sent tears spilling from his eyes.

“I read your letter. And… and the rest of them, that were legible, at least. I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“M sorry.” He whispered, curling up at the tremors wracking his body, that left him gasping, but there wasn’t any room, for any air. “didn’t mean for this… for it to be you. I’m sorry.”

“Janus. That’s not what I meant.” Logan's voice was soft and held a gentleness to it he’d never heard, and he shivered as Logan tilted up his head, mere inches from his face, close enough he wasn’t blurry. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me?” a breathy laugh wheezed past his lips.

“because you of all people don’t want me. Don’t want this. And I won’t-" he paused, coughing, weak, shuddering things that sent his whole body aflame, blood coating his teeth. “I won’t pressure you into something out of guilt. You… deserve better.”

He couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t any room for air in his lungs, he was choking on nothing, as his eyes fluttered shut, he was just barely aware of Logan grasping his hand. He was convulsing, blood flooding his mouth, his lungs, then there was warmth on him, against his lips, crushing against him fervently, and his hands weakly fluttered in surprise.

“I love you. You moronic fool, of course I love you." The words just barely filtered through, he opened his eyes, just barely feeling Logan caress his cheek, a soft, sad smile on his face, as he leaned down and kissed him again, sweet and gentle. “who else would it ever have been, but you?”

He wanted to say something. He wanted to laugh or cry or lunge upwards and press himself tight against Logan, to rake his hands through that perfectly combed hair, he wanted Logan so much it ached.

“Please, darling. You know I’m not lying, you know that I mean it, so please, love, let yourself believe it.”

He did. He could see it, on Logan’s face, the sincerity there, the light in his eyes, the burning hope and desire and fear. Logan loved him.

Logan…

Loved him.

He felt a rush of relief, of vibrant joy, of incredulity, and he smiled, nearly giggling with the headiness of it all.

Then a searing, agonizing, all consuming pain crashed over him with the force of a tidal wave, whiting everything out but the stars exploding against his eyes.

His whole body clenched from the force of it, ragged sobs and gasps breaking past his lips, as the fire and scraping burning digging inside him shifted, moved, and he gagged at the sensation of something foreign climbing his windpipe, almost choking him, thorns and vines cutting his flesh, digging into his tongue and stabbing his gums as it pushed itself out of him, tore him apart, as he heaved and struggled and begged for it to be over, over, over!

Until finally, it was. With a final heave, he spat the last of it out, a tangle of dark crimson roots, burgundy red dripping from his lips, coating his mouth, the entire thing there on the floor before him, twistedly beautiful in all it’s ruined, stained glory.

Then the exhaustion overwhelmed him and he fell, feeling arms just manage to catch him before he tumbled off the bed, a distant voice assuring him it was alright, it was over, he could sleep.  
…  
He woke… slowly.

He was aware of warmth, emanating from all around him, a delicious, intoxicating heat.

Then the scent, like pressed clothes and old books, tea and ink. 

His chest still ached, and his throat felt raw and sore as hell, but he found with relief he could take in a deep breath with no resistance or following coughs, he’d forgotten how it felt to be able to breath, what a luxury it was, simply to be able to inhale and exhale normally.

Finally, he managed to pry open his eyes, only mildly surprised to find himself pressed against Logan, in his bed, Logan curled around him. It felt so damn good, he couldn’t help but press himself closer against Logan's chest, clinging to him tightly as everything washed back over him, the memory of pain making him shake.

“Mmmph… wha…” Logan stirred, and he couldn’t help the soft, pathetic sob that escaped him. Instantly, Logan's arms came around him, a hand brushing through his hair. “Oh, darling. Shhh, it’s alright. You’re alright, love.” He crumbled more under that kindness, the softness, the truth in everything he was saying.

He gasped as Logan shifted them upright, the world spinning at the motion, though a moment later there were pillows propped behind him, Logan holding a cup to his lips, which he drank greedily, before slumping back, tiredness already washing over him, Logan’s hand squeezing his the only anchor tethering him to reality.

“You’ve been unconscious for three days. Once you were rid of the plant, Roman healed you as best he could. There was an incredible amount of internal damage, but he managed to repair the most severe of it. You are likely still weak from blood loss, and malnutrition, and dehydration. When was the last time you ate anything?” he blinked, it took a moment for his mind to catch up. 

“Don’t know. Maybe a… a week? Two?” The words scraped against the back of his throat, his voice came out rasping, but the pain was nothing compared to before. Logan let out a soft breath. 

“alright. We need to get you to eat something, then, some broth would probably be easiest." 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, unable to meet Logan's eyes, staring at the blanket instead.

“Janus. You have nothing to be sorry for. You were hurting, near death, because you didn’t want me to even feel backed into a corner. I should apologize, for not realizing something was wrong sooner.” He shook his head, unable to respond past the lump in his throat. 

“why? Why… me, why after all that I’ve done to you, would you ever in a million years want anything to do with me?” he asked instead, hating the tremble in his voice, the fear, that now would be when Logan turned and rejected him.

Instead, a hand lightly cupped his cheek, tilting up his head, stroking soft circles against it, those eyes impossibly soft.

“You’ve always tried your hardest to be heard. I can understand that, Janus, and I forgive you for it, because I know how impossible it feels, especially when you deserve to be listened to.

And I know, for how much you preach self care, your own often falls by the wayside in favor of everyone else’s. I know how much and how deeply you care, and strive to protect, and how much it weighs on your shoulders that for how hard you try, you perceive yourself as unwanted.

You aren’t. 

You’re so… brilliant. You’re the only one who keeps up with me, who I feel I am on even footing with, and I love going head to head with you, your knowledge on philosophy and your point of view is so unique and invigorating, and the way you speak of it, the way your eyes gleam, almost glow with excitement. The way you smile, that infuriating smug smirk, your canines biting your bottom lip, the way your scales shine in the light, the way you laugh, trying to sound like a dark disney villain, and I wonder sometimes if you even know how stunning and enrapturing you really are.

You’re… beautiful, Janus. Inside and out. And I’m not good, with my feelings, in general, but there is no shred of doubt when it comes to you, darling. There never has been.” He was breathless, looking into Logan's eyes, the swirling, ocean blue depths of them, the truth sweet against the bitter taste of iron on his tongue, and he couldn’t look away from those captivating saphires. “it had always been you.” Logan murmured, his other hand coming up to tuck back his hair, running his thumb over his scales, causing him to shiver at the rush of pleasure. 

Then Logan leaned in, holding his face as he gently met his lips, a mere soft brush against his, then Janus pressed closer, deepening it into something desperate and fierce and needy, his hands wrapping around Logan's waist, pulling him onto the bed with him, onto his lap, so when they parted Logan was straddled atop him, hands resting on either side of his head against the pillows, and still, there was nothing there but warmth and adoration and… and love. 

Then Logan sighed and leaned closer, pressing their foreheads together, simply resting there, reveling in the closeness, the warmth, his presence, his breathing, steady and even and normal. Janus let out a deep breath, going completely lax and limp under him, and for a moment, Logan’s panic spiked, before he realized that Janus had simply fallen asleep once more. 

He chuckled softly, slipping off from atop him, propping himself up next to him, watching him inhale and exhale, taking in how peaceful and calm his face looked in sleep, some color already coming back to his cheeks, now that he wasn’t constantly losing blood. 

He would be alright. He had to be.   
…  
He woke up soft and slow, this time, feeling the softness of blankets around him, and he could feel someone lingering, hovering uncertainly. 

“Are you going to stand in the doorway all day, or are you going to say something?” He drawled, voice a bit stronger than it had been, chest less sore. 

“Fuck you.” Came the sharp response, and he opened his eyes, tilting his head to meet Virgil’s narrowed ones, hood pulled low as he lingered in the doorway. 

“A pleasure as always, Virgil. My favorite thing about you is your sunny personality.” Virgil growled, stalking forwards and looming over him, frustration written across every line of his body. 

“I hate you.” He sighed, a small smile on his lips, though pain flashed across his eyes, as he dropped his gaze. 

“I know.” He replied, heart aching for a reason entirely different from the vines that had been strangling him. 

“Don’t you ever pull something like that again. Don’t you ever dare die, unless I’m the one killing you for being a pretentious ass.” Virgil spat, and he was taken aback as Virgil pulled him into a brief, rough, hug, before spinning on his heel and stalking back out the door, Logan moving out of the way to let him through, as he was about to come back in. He looked after Virgil for a moment, before turning his attention to Janus with a frown. 

“Should I be concerned?” Logan asked, and he sighed, leaning back against the pillow for a long moment. 

“No more so than usual, I would think.” He answered, pushing away the memories dancing on the edge of his mind. Logan hummed, but didn’t push.

“I brought soup. Do you think you can manage to eat?” He nodded. His throat didn’t feel nearly as torn up as it had, and his tongue and gums were still scratched and sore, but he didn’t think the broth would irritate them too much. 

Logan came over, settling in a chair pulled close to the bed, looking at him closely for a moment, before dipping the spoon into the broth. 

“I can feed myself, Logan.” He hated how defensive he sounded, the embarrassment coloring his cheeks a light red. 

“Hold up your hands.” He did, scowling when they shook, trembling hard enough he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold anything steady, much less a bowl of liquid. “There is no shame in needing help, Janus. Especially when recovering from an ordeal like the one you’ve been through.” Logan said softly, looking at him so earnestly, he couldn’t help but give in. Because there truly was no judgement on Logan’s face, no pity or annoyance, just sincerity, and from anyone else he still would have refused, but not Logan. 

So he let Logan spoon him broth, eyes widening in delight and surprise as the warm liquid hit his throat, soothing the remaining burning that lingered there, the flavor slightly salty, rich with the taste of beef and vegetables, and having something, anything, in his stomach felt so damn good, he hadn’t even known how starving he was, until that first spoonful hit him, and suddenly he was sick with hunger. 

Despite that, he only managed to finish half the bowl, before his stomach twisted and he was full, knowing if he took another sip he’d be sick, and lose everything he’d managed to get down. And no that he was full and warmed from the inside out, he was contentedly drowsy. He must have said something along those lines, because he heard Logan set down the bowl, hand brushing through his hair again, and gods, he was weak for that touch. 

“Alright, love. No doubt your stomach has shrunk considerably. We’ll work on getting you back to eating a sufficient amount and then back onto solid foods. For now, you can sleep. You need the rest, to get your strength back.” Logan murmured, and another brush of his scales sent him tumbling down into darkness.  
…  
“-don’t know it it’s a good idea.” 

“I know, but I just… I need to apologize. He didn’t think he could come to us, Logan. He didn’t think… we’d care. And I… I knew, something was wrong. I knew, and I didn’t do anything!” He opened his eyes, blinking blearily, Logan standing in the doorway, talking to someone. 

“He’s still recovering. I don’t want to upset him.” 

“Logan?” Instantly, Logan spun to face him, giving him time to glance past him, see who was in the doorway. Patton, arms wrapped around himself, looking miserable and upset, not meeting his eyes. “It’s ok.” Logan considered him for a moment, before giving a curt nod, stepping aside to let Patton in, who rushed to his bedside, frowning as he looked him up and down, hands fluttering as if he wanted to reach out, but didn’t know if he could or should.

“I’m sorry. I’m so… I know we don’t we always agree, but I don’t want you gone, Janus, I still want you to be part of our family, I want to be able to be there for you, but I didn’t want to overstep or press into your personal space. I should have done something sooner. I… I heard you, I heard you coughing, I knew something was wrong, I knew it was bad, but I didn’t do anything, I didn’t say anything, and I know Virgil was worried and trying to drop hints, but I was… I was scared, so I didn’t do anything. I was scared to push you farther away, so instead you almost died, and I’m so… I’m so sorry, Janus.” He blinked in surprise, trying to absorb everything Patton had said, because it was all… true. He meant every word of it, he wasn’t just apologizing to keep up the act of the moral good side, he was genuinely sorry he hadn’t tried to help, hadn’t said something, hadn’t questioned him. He genuinely wanted him around, wanted him to feel… wanted? 

“Then why… you never want me around. You all… whenever I show up, it’s to suspicious stares, and all conversation cuts off, and the tension in the room increases tenfold. How can you say all that, and mean it, but not act on any of it?” Patton let out a low breath, and this time when he leaned forwards he did reach out, taking Janus’s hand and squeezing it lightly, meeting his eyes. 

“We stare and exchange glances because we’re surprised, because you rarely come out of your room if you know we’re out in the common areas, and none of us know what to say that won’t scare you away. We’re surprised, and it’s like stumbling across a deer and trying not to startle it, because no matter what I say, you read it as an attack, so I stay silent because I don’t want a fight, I don’t want every conversation to be an argument, I don’t want to make you scared to be around us. That’s the tension, Janus. All of us trying to figure out what we should do to get you to stay. Some of it is probably Virgil, I guess, and whatever it is that’s going on between you two, but even he’s… worried. He won’t say it, but he is. Has been for a while.” His mouth formed a silent ‘o’ as he reeled, running over everything Patton had said, realizing for the first time that maybe his own perceptions were clouded by cognitive distortions. He huffed out a shallow laugh, shaking his head. 

“I’m an idiot.” He mumbled, and Patton fervently shook his head. 

“You aren’t. I should have made it clear, what was going on. You had no reason to trust us, to trust me, I should have expressed our intentions, instead of trying to halfheartedly show them to you.”

“thank you.” He whispered, glancing up at Patton’s face, before looking away, unable to meet those earnest wide eyes for long. “And I accept. Your apology. I… want that. To be… part of this.” He was surprised as Patton grinned, lunging forwards, carefully, as he hugged him, a soft, all consuming thing that took his breath away, as Patton pulled back. 

“I hope you feel better soon, Jan. Though with Logan hovering, I know he’ll make sure you do. And once you’re all better, we can work on starting over, ok? For now, don’t worry about a thing. Just get plenty of rest.” 

“ok.” He mumbled, snuggling further under the covers, falling back asleep with a smile, as he felt Patton gently tucking him in, humming quietly.  
…  
The next time he woke, he shot upwards with a gasp, hand flying to his throat, the tail end of a nightmare fading from memory, though he knew the thorns had been back, tearing him apart, and for a moment, phantom pain shot through his chest, making him shiver. 

For a moment, he couldn’t place where he was, fear pounding through him, then his mind cleared and he relaxed, remembering. Logan's room. Logan.

But he was alone, at the moment, so he took a deep breath, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. 

He knew he’d been in and out for a while now, mostly sleeping, Logan tending to him for the short bouts of consciousness, making him eat, but he hadn’t been properly up and about since this whole thing had started. 

He didn’t know where he was trying to get to, exactly. He just felt the need to move, to prove that he could, to prove to himself that he could, because if there was one thing he absolutely hated it was being weak. Weak and helpless and dependent. 

So he got to his feet, shakingly taking a few steps, stumbling against the wall, breathing heavily from the effort. His legs were weak and felt moments from giving out, trembling with the effort of holding his too light weight. 

He grit his teeth and forced himself back upright, snapping his fingers. It was a drain to his system, but in a moment, a door formed in front of him. It wavered and he bore down on his will until it was firm, opening it and stepping through, into the imagination. 

It was a quiet spot, near the edge of a cliff, the rock warm and toasty, the sun baring down on him in the way it did on the hottest of summer days, though the air lacked any of the sticky humidity that usually accompanied their hot days. It felt incredibly good, and he sunk to the ground near the edge, leaning back on his hands, letting out a low sigh. 

It was nice. The quiet was so… nice. He could hear distant birds chirping. A soft breeze blew against his face. The sun was warming him up from the outside in. Occasionally he heard the cry of a hawk, the rustling of small animals, the wind echoing through the chasm before him. It was wonderful. 

It was empty. 

He felt empty. 

“Didn’t expect for you to be out here.” He simply hummed, at Roman’s soft words. He wasn’t incredibly surprised, that he was here. Had half expected it, honestly, though he didn’t know why he’d come here, then. Still, he didn’t protest, as Roman sat down beside him with a slight groan. He spared the side a glance, finding him slightly dusted up, a tear or two in his clothes. He was surprised to find it wasn’t his normal prince outfit, simple brown breeches and a loose linen shirt, sword sheathed at his side. 

“Didn’t expect you to run around looking like an actual person, yet here we are.” He muttered back, getting a soft chuckle from Roman.

“Well, the white does stain rather easily. I’m not the most practical of people, but even I recognize the fallacy of wearing it all the time, especially out on quests.” They lapsed into silence once more, Janus looking out at the horizon, lost in his own mind. 

“You know, I don’t hold it against you, at least, not anymore, right? Everything… everything that happened. The court room, the call back, the wedding? It… wasn’t your fault. Or, it was your fault, just as much as it was Patton’s. And I just happened to be the one stuck in the middle. It sucked. It hurt. I… got hurt. But so did everyone. So did you. And I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know what to do, with all of this honesty that kept getting thrown his way, all this unbiased sincerity. He just let out another long sigh, staring up at the cloudless sky. 

“I’m going to hurt him. I know I’m going to hurt him.” He whispered, closing his eyes, against the brightness of the sun, pretending that was the reason for the tears in the corners of his eyes. “I’m not good for him, good enough. I’ve never been enough. Not for Virgil, not for Remus, gods know not for Thomas. So how could I ever be enough, for Logan?” 

He heard Roman shift beside him, and opened his eyes, as he felt Roman rest a hand atop his, meeting his eyes with soft warmth. 

“I can feel love, Janus. I can feel how much you love him. I know you would do anything for him, I know you would give anything for him, you very nearly gave everything for him. It doesn’t get more dedicated than that. And I can feel how much he loves you back. It’s real, Janus, it’s not pity or obligation. It’s real, and pure, and you mean the world to him.” He looked away, down into the abyss. “You would never hurt him, Janus, not intentionally.” He let out a dry laugh at that, shaking his head. 

“I already have.” 

“And he’s already forgiven you. So why haven’t you forgiven yourself?” His breath caught and he pulled away, pulling his knees to his chest. 

“I don’t deserve it.” He mumbled. 

“Oh, Snakey, of course you do. And just because you can’t see it yet, doesn’t mean you won’t. Just let him be there for you. Just let yourself… be. The past is over. You can’t change it, so there’s no point in dwelling. All you can do is move forwards and do better.” He blinked at Roman’s words, for a moment he sounded so much like Remus, calling him ‘snakey’, and he huffed.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on like I did. I didn’t mean to make it all… crumble. I knew I was playing with fire, I just didn’t expect for it to turn into an inferno. I thought I could control it.” He let out a bark of bitter laughter. “instead it consumed everything.” 

“Did you know… there are certain trees, whose seeds only open their pods and plant into the earth under intense heat? It’s how they grow back, after forest fires. The parent tree goes up in smoke, but it continues on, in all the little seedlings that spring up in the ashes. It allows the forest to return, to regrow.” 

“Well, at least I know you’ve been listening to Logan’s lectures, then.” That got a small laugh from Roman. 

“What I’m trying to say is I don’t think the fire… I don’t think it was a bad thing. I think we needed it. A chance to clear out all the old dead underbrush dragging us down and plant new roots. It’s painful to watch, painful to go through, but once the smoke clears… it’s freeing. That breath of fresh air. Of new growing things, of hope.  
I… had to pretend, for so long. Or felt like I had to pretend. Pretend to be ok, to be happy, to be sure of myself, to be… brave. And I wish it had all come out in less of a mess, but I don’t feel like I have to be that anymore. I know I don’t have to always be the prince. It’s enough to just be Roman.  
You… taught me that, Janus. I just didn’t know you hadn’t already learned that lesson yourself.” 

“You are so much like Remus.” He said, a small smile on his lips, before his eyes widened, realizing what he’d said, how Roman would take it, turning to him to apologize, to take it back, but to his surprise, Roman didn’t seem upset, just… thoughtful. 

“I know I took that as insult before, but… well, I don’t really know Remus, anymore, do I? I haven’t for a long, long time.”

“He misses you. At least as much as you miss him. He's so passionate, like you. He does the nickname thing, too. He cares, more than he should, about everyone else and doesn’t take enough time for himself. He’s so used to not being heard he feels he needs to scream, and every time he's pushed back he falls apart a little more because he thinks he'll never be good enough. He hates that he isn’t you. But he loves that he's himself. And some days that war nearly breaks him apart inside. I didn’t mean it, when I called him evil. I just… knew it would get under your skin. Neither of you are.” Roman doesn’t say anything for a long while, though Janus can see his mind whirring, before he shakes it away, giving Janus a small, shaky, but real, smile.

“should we head back? I don’t think you’re supposed to be up and about yet." He sighed, long and drawn out.

“I just needed… something else. Something besides a room. I hate… this.” He felt Roman gently bump his shoulder.

“I know. But it will pass, Janus. Just give yourself time. A few more days, and you’ll be good as new.” He allowed Roman to help pull him to his feet, hissing at a wave of nausea and dizziness that accompanied the motion. 

“Alright?” Roman asked and he nodded. 

“Don’t… do the whole rising up thing. I don’t think I could take that right now. Honestly, I don’t understand how you do it without being sick.” Roman simply chuckled, and a door appeared in front of them. 

“Practice makes perfect, Janus.” 

The door led back to the light side commons, and Roman quickly helped settle him on the couch. He could hear humming coming from the kitchen, the scent of sugar cookies filling the air. He was about to comment on Patton’s stress baking, when Logan came flying down the stairs, face drawn and hair mussed, panic on his face. 

“Janus is gone, I’ve looked everywhere, I can’t-“ His words dropped off as he registered Roman, looking at him with an almost amused smirk, Janus sitting on the couch, legs tucked under him, looking a bit tired, but otherwise ok, almost… lighter, in a way, and he returned Roman’s gaze, questioning. Roman simply shrugged, tilting his head to Janus, implying they’d talked, and he wasn’t about to figuratively spill the beans. He sighed, shifting his attention back to Janus, a soft smile on his lips. 

“Well. Then. Everything seems to be in order. Roman, would you go check on Patton? He seems to be making an excess amount of sweets.” 

“Actually, Virgil’s helping him. But, uh, yes! I will go scope it out!” He answered, at Logan’s slightly stern glare, still smirking as he scurried out of the room. 

“I didn’t mean to worry you.” Janus said softly, looking down at the couch, running his hand over the soft blanket Roman had thrown onto his lap. “I just needed… to be somewhere else, for a while.” Logan nodded, sitting down beside him.

“Understandable. I imagine there’s a lot on your mind, given what you’ve gone through. Sometimes a new environment can help better put things into perspective.” He leaned over, resting his head tentatively on Logan’s shoulder, a small happy sigh slipping out as Logan wrapped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his thumb in circles against them. 

“I’m not used to having someone there. I’m so accustomed to going it alone. I don’t know how to do this, Logan. And it terrifies me. Because I don’t think I could stand screwing this up, like I do everything else.” He mumbled, feeling Logan pull him just a little closer. 

“Falsehood. You do not ‘screw’ everything up. You have made mistakes, yes. But so have we all. And I know, any problems we encounter, we will be able to resolve, together. I promise, darling.” Logan stole his breath, as he kissed the top of his head softly, melting against him even more. 

“Together.” He echoed. The word felt foreign on his lips, but so sweet and wonderful, and he knew Logan meant it. Logan meant it, and Logan loved him, and that was enough to send tears cascading down his face. 

“Oh, love.” Logan murmured softly, shifting so he could cup his face, wiping away his tears. “what is it?” He laughed, the laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep within him, a genuine, glowing thing, and Logan swore he saw stars, with how bright that laugh made Janus glow. 

“I didn’t… expect this. I didn’t expect to be… be happy, at the end of this. I didn’t think I’d have you.” His voice is light, and Logan can’t help but return his smile, leaning in to kiss him, Janus deepening it to something slow and sweet, colors exploding across his vision at the burst of fireworks in his chest, Logan’s hands in his hair, his around Logan’s waist, and when they part they’re both happy, Janus rolling his eyes at Remus wolf whistling at him from the hallway. He lets himself slip into Logan’s lap, pressing him into another kiss, letting that light consume him again. 

He didn’t know the last time he felt like this, if he ever had, felt like this. 

But he knew, with Logan, it would stay.


End file.
